


the inevitable tornado that is will graham

by skywalkerz



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Domestic Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Sassy Will Graham, are we surprised, basically: hannibal is whipped!, will and his stray dogs, will cusses like a sailor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25082668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkerz/pseuds/skywalkerz
Summary: When Will and Hannibal survive the fall, Hannibal doesn't expect for Will to be as messy as he is, as loud as he is - all clumsy and sarcastic and cranky with no caffeine in his system. Crazy thing is, Hannibal really doesn't mind the chaos.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 325





	the inevitable tornado that is will graham

When Will and Hannibal survive the fall, Hannibal doesn't expect for Will to be as messy as he is, as loud as he is - all clumsy and sarcastic and cranky with no caffeine in his system.

Crazy thing is, Hannibal really doesn't mind the chaos.

It really should aggravate him. If it was anybody else on this planet, Hannibal would have gutted them, slashed their throat, or simply cracked their neck by now. They'd be cooking on a pan yesterday, quite factually. 

So, it should absolutely infuriate Hannibal when Will tracks his boots across the safe house, loud and muddy and wet throughout the kitchen as he swings the refrigerator door wide open, tapping a foot with zero self-awareness. Ultimately, Will ends up grabbing a hand full of grapes straight out of the bag, not bothering to wash his hands nor the fruit.

Hannibal observes from the long wooden table with a look of combined distain and amusement as Will shovels the grapes into his mouth, practically slamming the fridge door shut after, chewing too loud for anyone's good. And then, his dear Will is off again, stomping those dirty and atrocious boots across the house, and most likely, up the stairs.

Hannibal can hear the shower running upstairs. He sighs, sets down the novel he had been reading at the table. He never complains, never regrets his decisions of keeping Will close in his orbit. He grabs the necessary cleaning tools, perfects the kitchen floor, scrubs the stairs if needed, and washes Will's discarded boots, left kicked aside in their bedroom. Hannibal makes sure to tuck them by the front door again for Will's next outing. 

* * *

"Good morning, Will." Hannibal greets, leaning against the kitchen island, novel opened on the sleek marble top. 

"Nnnnnngh." is the response Hannibal gets from a zombie Will Graham. 

Hannibal is never surprised by the following actions, at least not anymore, a couple months into their new living space: Will, with his slouched shoulders and dark under eyes, practically wraps himself like a python around Hannibal, digging his face into the crook of the warm skin of Hannibal's neck. Will then wraps his arms around Hannibal's waist, fingers almost digging into the fabric of his clothes. 

"Coffee." Will never says - _demands._

It is definitely a chore prying Will's body off of Hannibal's, but he knows retrieving the coffee will be quick; it is already brewed by the time Will stumbles down the stairs. He's got one of Will's favorite mugs on the counter, as well as the milk ready to be splashed in. 

In a matter of five seconds, Hannibal has the perfected caffeine pressed back into Will's hands, and is gently running a hand through Will's hair, attempting to untangle the curls. 

Will always leans into the touch, allowing himself to be fussed over and touched so precisely, so delicately.

There is no grace to be found in Will Graham as he basically slurps the coffee, downing it in four gulps. He places the mug on the marble when he is finished, a loud _clink_ ringing in the kitchen. His glasses are crooked, slipping on the bridge of his nose. God, those dark under-eye bags really are horrendous sometimes. And only one of his sweatshirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbow; the other sleeve falling over his palm.

Hannibal always sees it as endearing.

He also knows better than to assume Will can tolerate human conversation at 7:30 a.m. It is bound to be a few moments before the caffeine hits Will's system, bound to be a moment before Will can engage in basic English communication. 

So, Hannibal says nothing, simply continues to detangle Will's locks with one hand, holding his novel down with the other on the counter. Will sags against Hannibal's side, head tucked into the crook of his neck. After a few silent minutes, Will speaks:

"Read it to me?" 

* * *

It is nearly four o'clock when Hannibal hears the sound of piercing glass breaking, followed by excessive and foul cursing that could only be uttered by Will Graham. 

"Motherfucking dumbass vase. Where the hell did you even come from?" Will basically shrieks. Hannibal has to physically fight the smile on his lips as he stands from the couch where he had been reading. When he enters the foyer, Will is sitting on the first step of the stairs, where he is apparently examining his right foot, scowling and uttering more cuss words under his breath. 

"Ah, I never quite fancied that vase, anyways." Hannibal states. He exits for a moment, coming back with a simple broom and dustpan. He sets them against the wall, ignoring the broken glass shattered across the floor, and crosses to Will on the stairs. Hannibal crouches in front of Will, gently prying Will's hands away from his foot. 

Hannibal clicks his tongue, carefully holding Will's injured foot, spreading the skin taut to peer at the glass sticking out. 

"Didn't your mother instruct you to not walk barefoot on broken glass, Will?" Hannibal looks up, meeting Will's striking blue eyes, and watches Will swallow a lump in his throat.

"Well, who puts a fucking vase on an unstable ledge?" Will spits, trying to weakly pry his own foot out of Hannibal's grasp, failing ultimately, always giving into Hannibal's touch, safe and sensual.

Hannibal doesn't bother fighting off the soft smile this time, but lets himself submit to it, lets himself submit to the firecracker nature that is Will. 

"Wait here. I am going to assist you in getting that nasty piece of glass out. And then we are going to be purchasing new socks for you to wear in this house, at the very least, dear Will. Someone as clumsy as you is bound to shatter another vase, mm?" 

Will rolls his eyes, even huffs out a breath of complete annoyance. But he doesn't object, doesn't try to rip out the shard of glass himself, either. He even lets Hannibal stroke his cheekbone gently, before drifting upstairs for his needed supplies. 

And Will bitches the entire time, complains, jerks his foot away from Hannibal, insults how the anti-bacterial ointment smells. _("That's what actual fucking decay smells like." "Sweet boy, you and I are both aware that is not the scent of decay."_ ) He squirms, and of course, spits out even more cuss words Hannibal isn't even sure are ethical, frankly. 

When Will is left with a dressing on the pad of his foot, Hannibal then stands to sweep up the broken glass, quietly and in content. 

That evening, Hannibal insists on checking up on the wound. Will is less bitchy, less whiny, uses less obscenities. When Hannibal is finished probing at his foot, Will pulls Hannibal next to him, nuzzling into the larger frame, placing his face into the dip of Hannibal's shoulder, melting into the embrace in classic Will fashion. 

Hannibal swears he hears a _"thanks"_ ", quiet and humble and careful, the breath of the word tickling his collarbone.

He can't confirm, because Will is sound asleep moments after, bound to drool and sweat on the body next to him for the next seven hours of slumber. 

* * *

"Her name is Red." Will states proudly, smile bigger than the sun.

"And what is the inspiration for the name?" Hannibal questions, trying to contort his face into anything but absolute disgust.

"I figured like the Red Dragon - she could be our little murder Labrador." Will is still kneeling next to the new canine, rubbing behind her ears and scratching her chest.

And Hannibal is really wishing in this exact moment Will didn't have to look so absolutely radiant, carefree of anything in this world crouched next to the god damn muddy dog. 

"I realize we've never properly discussed in full the addition of a possible canine into this household..." Hannibal trails off, having yet to pet or greet the dog in front of him.

Will stands, slowly. He's got that smug, completely devilish look lingering in his entrancing eyes. He gets close, almost crowding Hannibal against a nearby tree. _Red_ chews on a paw next to the two of them.

Will licks his lips, teasing and clever before he talks. "But I know you'll keep her." His voice is low and scratchy and heavenly; he must know this. Must know all the ways to turn Hannibal to liquid in the palm of his hands.

"And what makes you so sure, beloved?" Hannibal can't stop himself, reaching out to cup Will's cheek in his left hand, his right hand coming to rest on Will's hip. 

Will leans in, kissing Hannibal slow and filthy. 

"If I want her, you'll make yourself want her. Because you're not the type of person to strip his love what he desires. Right?" Will is smirking, because of course he is. 

Hannibal can feel himself swallowing hard, the hand on Will's hip gripping tighter. 

"You're correct in your assumption, my dear Will." Hannibal manages to reply, finding it difficult to speak, overcome with Will - his blue eyes, now gleaming and excited, curls unruly and astray as he pulls himself from Hannibal to crouch back down next to Red. He's hugging her like he's a toddler who has never owned a pet before.

And, if Hannibal cuddles the dog here and there, well, Will doesn't need to have the satisfaction of knowing that. 

**Author's Note:**

> yea just binged hannibal on netflix....and what abt it...........ya girl just needs hannigram, completely domestic, murder-free. idc if they are bad men, let me make them soft!!!!!!!


End file.
